


Headfirst

by gann0n



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr, So does D.Va, brigitte has a lot of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 22:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15010511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gann0n/pseuds/gann0n
Summary: A mission doesn't go as planned.





	Headfirst

**Author's Note:**

> based loosely off a prompt from tumblr
> 
> Person 1 complaining about how long the walk to wherever is, and Person 2 constantly telling them to shut up and that they're almost there. After Person 1 doesn't stop complaining, Person 2 picks Person 1 up like a child and tells them that's what they get for complaining like a child, and carries them all the way there. "If you're going to act like a child, I'm going to treat you like a child. Shut the hell up."

It took towards the end of the mission for shit to hit the fan but hit the fan it did. 

For reasons unknown to Brigitte, she and Hana had been tasked with transporting something to the headquarters an armored car. She had figured whatever it was they were delivering was mechanical in some way, shape or form—it was really the only way sending the two of them on a mission together made sense, although it was also entirely possible that the people in charge had seen how restless everyone was getting. Maybe this was just a way to stretch their legs. Do something besides sit and wait. And sit and wait. 

Brigitte had been looking forward to this for that specific reason. It was easy to see why Reinhardt had insisted on returning. It was also just as easy to remember that he had already given them everything. Sitting around got old quick when you thought like that.

And if she was being honest with herself, she was a little excited to have some one on one time with this specific Overwatch member. She briefly wondered if Reinhardt had orchestrated this somehow. He'd always been a fan. She was as well, to an extent. Enough that her first interaction with D.va resulted in her staring blankly as D.va introduced herself, then panicking and saying, “I know who you are!”, which kind of threw the game plan to act cool and relaxed out the window. Remaining level headed around pretty girls was never a specialty of Brigitte’s, but the embarrassment on her part was at a minimum. Hana’s mech was a good way to get Brigitte thinking about repairs and that defense matrix and not to focus that she was talking to a girl who managed to be cuter in person. 

It was a sight, Hana driving as the scenery of the wilderness lay out before them. It was a nice day, everything considered, and in what had to be a breach of protocol, Hana had the windows down and music playing. 

But even with someone like Hana Song maintaining conversation with her, nothing could cut through the air like the sound of bullets. They had just enough time to register the sound before one of the tires blew out, sending them skidding. The car halted to a stop, screeching as it did so, and Brigitte wasn't entirely unsure she had whiplash. She distantly recognized a dull thud, and realized she'd hit her head. She touched two fingers to the back of her head, relieved when they didn't come back stained red. She looked at Hana instantly, and she seemed fine, if a little dazed. 

“Who—” D.va tried before a gruff voice ordered them out of the car. 

“Good question.” Brigitte said. “I guess we're about to find out.”

D.va hesitated, as did Brigitte. Getting out was almost certainly a bad plan but staying in an enclosed space with unknown enemies pointing guns at them was probably worse. Brigitte smiled as best she could with the throbbing in her head and nodded in what she could only hope was a reassuring way. 

It must have been, because D.va sighed before stepping out, arms raised and a pout on her face. It might have been adorable at a different time, but there was the ever-present threat of whoever was holding them at gunpoint.

A good look at their attackers did nothing to answer any questions. It was maybe cube hooded and masked figures, all brandishing machine guns. Well, maybe that was a hint. Machine guns weren't exactly easy to come by. They said nothing, but kept their guns drawn as they retrieved the package from the car and up until they'd driven away.

 

Brigitte knew, despite minimal interaction with Hana until now, that it tore Hana up inside as much as it did her watching these… villains take off and being unable to do anything about it. Everything in Brigitte was screaming to do something. Chase them. Call for backup. Do something besides nothing, besides watching their assailants drive off into the distance.

Brigitte sighed as the throb in her head continued and the car vanished from sight. So much for a protector. Less than twenty minutes from the objective, and she had allowed this to happen?

“You alright?” She asked. There would be time to dwell on failure later. Discuss it with Reinhardt, maybe. 

Hana crossed her arms. “We failed. No, I'm not okay.”

Brigitte hadn't been expecting that. “Okay, I get that. But injury wise, are you alright? Any pain, cuts, bruises—”

Hana decided mid-sentence that she couldn't be bothered and stalked off in another direction. 

“Hey!” Brigitte called, following. “I know you're upset, but we need to stay focused. It'll be dark soon.”

There was no indication on Hana’s part that Brigitte’s words reached her ears. Brigitte sighed, again, and pondered how she ended up here. 

“We can't just wander off.” Brigitte tried again. This time, Hana did pause, turning to a dead stop so quickly that Brigitte nearly crashed into her. 

“Do you have a suggestion?” Hana asked, and Brigitte couldn't miss the venom in her voice. 

“We can try to contact 76 or Winston or anybody.” Brigitte said. “We had radios.” She pointed out, grabbing one from her own jacket, and then grimacing. It had certainly seen better days.

“We just crashed. How do you know they still work?”

Brigitte shrugged. “I don't. But I know if they don't, I can fix it.”

“Hmph.” Hana said, arms still crossed, and Brigitte tried really hard to chalk up the attitude to the stress of having been shot at. It was a high stress job, and it didn't bode well for her if she expected everyone to be sunshine and rainbows all the time. Still, this disgruntled princess act was starting to get on her last nerve. Grumbling to herself, she started fiddling with the radio and was pleased to find it was still in working order. 

“Hello?”

She heard someone, probably 76, sigh in relief. 

“You were supposed to be at the outpost already.” He said. “What's the holdup?”

“We may have gotten shot at. And lost the package.”

This sigh wasn't in relief. “Lost the package?”

“Had it taken from us.” Brigitte clarified.

“By who? Talon?”

“No idea.” Brigitte said, and she was beginning to get sick of feeling helpless and uninformed. 

“Well, that's not good.” He said, like that wasn't glaringly obvious. “Alright. Any injuries?”

“I'll have a nasty headache. We're about fine besides that.” Maybe some flaring tempers. 

“At least no one got hurt. It looks like you're maybe four miles from the outpost. We can send transport, but—”

“We can walk.” Brigitte said, and Hana shot her a death glare. “Four miles? Not far.”

“If you think you're in walking shape.”

“I've done quite enough sitting and waiting, thank you.” Brigitte said. Was it a good idea to walk in unfamiliar terrain? Probably not. But her blood was boiling now, partly from their failure and mostly from Hana’s flippant and dismissive attitude. Brigitte was upset as well, but she wasn't throwing a tantrum—

“You're going the wrong way.” Hana said. Somewhere in her rage, Brigitte had just started walking with no clear direction in mind. 

“You're the expert now?” Brigitte asked.

Hana said nothing, just huffed and set out in the opposite direction. Brigitte followed without a word, still fuming. 

She was still so angry two miles later that she was sure the radio in her pocket was damaged beyond repair from how she ended up using it as a makeshift stress ball.

And then Hana started complaining, and the voice Brigitte had found so endearing sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

“My feet hurt.” She whined. 

“Weren't you in the military? There's no way you haven't walked a distance like this before.”

“Can you stop talking to me like that?”

“Can you stop behaving like a child?”

That wasn't the right thing to say. If possible, Hana’s expression soured even more. 

“Why does everyone say that? You're barely older than me!”

“Maybe if you didn't act like one we wouldn't call you that.” Brigitte spit. She registered hurt flashing across Hana’s face, and had a moment where she felt guilty.

“Fine.” Hana said, and attempted to walk ahead. And she did, but fatigue or pain must have caught up to her because she faltered not long after.

Brigitte might have actually groaned in annoyance. After a brief debate with herself, she walked forward, picked Hana up effortlessly and adjusted her so that she was carrying her bridal style. Hana made a very undignified noise, like a squeak—Yes, Brigitte thought, I am that strong, even though this isn't how I wanted to show you—and then said nothing and proceeded to pout even while being carried. Brigitte scoffed.

The rest of the walk continued in almost complete silence, minus Brigitte’s breathing. Hana weighed next to nothing and Brigitte hardly had to slow to carry her. They probably made better time walking like this, anyway, since Hana couldn't complain about the walk while she was being carried.

Neither Reinhardt or her father let her hear the end of what happened once the two made their way into the base, but Brigitte didn't remember a second of it.

“Like a knight carrying her damsel in distress!” Reinhardt would chuckle. Brigitte supposed she must have looked very much like a knight, and under different circumstances she would have felt proud. It would be almost exactly what she envisioned, protecting others from danger and it wouldn't hurt that she was carrying the girl of her dreams in her arms.

The image of her as a knight fighting for glory and honor was warped just a tad, however, once Brigitte walked into the main room—yes, she had carried Hana the entire way— judged the distance from the girl in her arms to a chair, and promptly dropped her on a couch and stalked out without a word to the amused elder members of Overwatch.

 

 

After that incident and a checkup from Angela—well, after the whole day— Brigitte wanted to be left alone to the confines of her room, but she knew the failure of their mission earlier meant a meeting with Reinhardt. Combined with what happened in the main room and well… A talk was in order. Whether she liked it or not. 

Sure enough, there was a knock at her door and Reinhardt poked his old, grizzled head through.

“Can I come in?”

Brigitte sighed. “Of course. I know today didn't go as planned.”

“No.” Reinhardt agreed, sitting down. “It didn't. And I don't mean just the mission. Look,” he said. “I understand. It can be quite difficult to get along with other people, especially for someone as stubborn as their father—”

“Hey!” Brigitte protested, but it was drowned out by Reinhardt’s laughter.

“But if you managed to get along with and have patience for a headstrong old man like me, you can get along with someone your age.”

“I understand. It's just—she shut down completely. It's hard to work with someone who—”

“And you don't think that you could have done something else? To not worsen the situation? She said you called her a child.” Reinhardt explained. “I think you hit a nerve.”

“Clearly.” She sighed, a hand at her temples. “I feel like I failed on so many different levels today. The mission went up in flames, and instead of diffusing the situation I resorted to name calling.” All of this was the opposite of what Brigitte wanted to be and what she wanted to work for. People who protected didn't do things like this and let their temper get the better of them. 

“No one said this would be easy, Brigitte. But I've never known you as one to give up when things get tough.” Reinhardt said, a hand on her shoulder. “I won't say you're the only one in the wrong. I will say that apologies are in order.” He stood up to leave. “Also, try not to drop anymore damsels in distress. Especially ones who I got to sign something for you—”

“That was as much for you as it was for me!” Brigitte hissed, but Reinhardt was gone, his booming laugh echoing through the hallway. The conveniently left out part about how much of a fangirl Reinhardt was left aside, he was right that apologies were in order.

The next day, Brigitte waited in the kitchen until noon. Hana was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in the rec room either, which were the only two places Brigitte had seen her, but the base was massive and sprawling. It was possible that she could wander around all day and not find her. Sitting outside her room was on the creepy side, and maybe counterproductive to her ultimate goal of convincing Hana that she wasn't a bad person, but she wasn't seeing a ton of options.

Of course, there was the possibility Hana was in her room and an even higher possibility that she wouldn't let her in. Didn't hurt to try.

Her door was locked, because of course it was.

“Go away!” Hana called. “I know it's you, Lindholm. I don't want to talk to you.”

“I—how do you know it's me?”

“Everyone else in this place has come to talk to me already.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“Even Zarya?”

“Especially Zarya. She had some critiques for your form, by the way.”

“Of course she did.”

“And even if everyone else hadn't talked to me already,” Hana said, pausing. “I know what your footsteps sound like.”

“You do?”

“Being carried for two miles helps with that.” 

“Right. About that.” Brigitte said. “Can we talk? Please?”

“You dropped me.”

“I wasn't trying to hurt you. I measured the distance and everything before I—that's not the point. I'm sorry.”

Hana said nothing.

“I like to do my apologies face to face.” Brigitte called. “Can you unlock the door, please?”

“You're good with this kind of stuff, can't you open the door somehow with your mechanic skills?”

Brigitte laughed. “I'm a mechanic, not a hacker. Even though I probably could open it. But I don't want to do that. I want you to want to open the door.”

Silence. Brigitte took a seat right outside the door.

“I'm going to sit here until you do.” Brigitte said. “I can talk enough for the both of us, you know.”

“You didn't strike me as the talkative type.”

“No? Where'd you get that impression?”

“Yesterday. We went two miles without saying a word to each other.”

“I was angry.” Brigitte said. “And that's still not an excuse for what I did. I want you to know I'm not like that all the time. And it wasn't you. I don't do well with failing. I'm not a good loser.”

“Neither am I.”

“Just our luck they put us on a mission together then, huh?”

“I think they wanted us to bond.”

“Guess we can add that up to the list of things I've fucked up.”

There was another gap of silence, this one so long Brigitte thought Hana was done with her. She was just getting up to leave when the door opened. 

“I shouldn't act like this whole thing is your fault.” Hana said, with unwavering eye contact. It was distracting, to say the least. “Come in.”

At a different time, Brigitte would have marveled at Hana’s room. She didn't know how Hana had this many consoles or such an elaborate gaming setup on a military base and she would ponder it another time. For now, the only thing about the room that registered was Hana’s bed oh my god she was inviting Brigitte to sit on the bed and now their legs were touching oh my god—

“I wasn't the most mature person yesterday.” Hana admitted, hugging a pillow and snapping Brigitte out of her internal panic. “And when you called me out on it I acted even more like a child.”

“It wasn't right of me to call you a name though.” Brigitte protested, and Hana chuckled for the first time Brigitte had heard in what seemed like forever.

“I don't know how you think I could see you as anything but a good person, even with yesterday. I'm trying to meet you halfway and you're here convincing me that the whole thing was your fault. I know you like to protect people. I just didn't realize it extended to feelings, too.”

Brigitte could feel the blush spreading across her face, and a hand went to the back of her neck as she looked down. “I try to be a good person. And I promise I don't normally carry pretty girls for miles to unceremoniously drop them. In front of superiors, no less.”

“So, carrying the pretty girls is normal, but the dropping part isn't? Wow.”

“I can say with the most certainty that you are the prettiest girl I've ever carried and then dropped.” Brigitte said. Hana smiled at her—a real, genuine smile that made Brigitte’s heart stop for a second.

“I'm honored.” Hana said. “I can say you're the nicest person to ever carry me and then drop me.”

“Am I really?”

“Yep.” Hana confirmed. “Nicest personality. Nicest looking. Nicest muscles for sure.” She added.

“Oh.” If possible, Brigitte got even redder. “I, uh, I try.” 

She had hoped to make amends with D.va, but this was quickly spiraling into a conversation she wouldn't have dared to have in her dreams, which was why she was sputtering like an idiot. The little crush that was hidden away was beginning to make its presence more known that ever. God, Reinhardt was going to have a field day. 

“You sound unsure.”

“I'm just—taken aback.” Brigitte said. “It's not every day you receive a compliment like that.”

“I don't believe I'm the first person to pay attention to your muscles. Although it was kind of hard not to with you carrying me and all.”

“At least something good came out of me being a jerk.”

“Hey.” Hana said, grabbing her hand. “How many ways do you want me to say this? I'm not mad at you, okay?”

“I—” Brigitte fought the urge to argue. “Okay. As long as you know that's not me. Yesterday was… somebody else.”

“Ah. It must have been your evil twin.” Hana said, laughing. “But let me ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“You weren't that much of an asshole yesterday, you know. What's with all the apologizing?” 

“Because I don't hurt people. That's not what I do. And, well…” she faltered. “You're the coolest person here—”.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“And I didn't want someone like you thinking so little of me.” Brigitte’s voice was almost unrecognizable to her own ears, she was so nervous.

“Someone like me?” Hana asked. Her tone was innocent. Too innocent to be believable.

Brigitte decided to play along, although she could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“You know. All gorgeous and intelligent and way out of my league. Someone like that.”

“Well,” Hana said, still with that deceptively sweet voice. “You should give yourself more credit. I don't let just anyone carry me, you know.”

Brigitte was about eighty percent sure she was going to combust on the spot. She was going to go up in flames right here, on Hana’s bed. “Oh. Who do you let carry you?”

“Hmm. Mainly cute, taller, stronger Swedish girls. Know any of those?”

“I—uh, wow. Yeah, I know one. One in particular who is very glad to know she didn't fuck this up. And one who—” Brigitte glanced down at her phone to see a text. “Has to go help Reinhardt.”

She wanted to curse the old man, but in truth he saved her from embarrassing herself even further. She shouldn't push her luck. 

Whatever fog was in the air from all that flirting cleared, and Brigitte realized they were much closer now than they had been, and it was already a small bed. She almost jumped at the realization but collected her composure and managed to get up without making a fool of herself.

“I'll see you later?” She asked. “We could watch a movie or…”

“Count on it.” Hana said. “We’ll figure something out.”

As the door slid closed behind her, Brigitte had to collect herself and sit down. Yesterday? Bad day. An unbelievably bad day. Today? The stuff of dreams. 

Someone walked past her. Angela. Overwatch members hyperventilating in the hallways had to be a normal thing, because Angela didn't hesitate or even slow down. 

“Looks like it went well.” She said, in the same tone she used when asking patients about where it hurt.

“That's one way to put it.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've fallen into such a deep hole with this ship  
> typed on my phone so let me know about any typos  
> this might be a multi-chapter thing but it might not be, i know i'm a mess  
> also i haven't written fic in forever go easy on me


End file.
